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Story:Star Trek: Federalist/The Prize Fighter
He pulled the lever to open the maintenance hatch on the torpedo. It was the 44th torpedo in the ship's arsenal of 50. He tapped a few buttons on the hidden access panel, and synched his tricorder to it's onboard computer system. "Targeting functions within acceptable parameters. Photon warhead stable. Propulsion unit tests optimal." The computer reported its diagnostic findings. Quallo sighed softly, "Just six more to go. Then I can call it a night." The door to the torpedo bay opened. Captain Deet entered. "Captain, is there something I can help you find?" Quallo asked, dropping what he was doing. "Actually I'm here to speak to you." the Captain replied. "Oh, you didn't need to come all the way down here, I would've come to your ready room." Quallo wondered why she hadn't. "I've got two working legs. I know too many captains who forget that they have an entire ship of moving parts underneath their bridge, and they never come down to see it- yet they always expect for it to work perfectly... What are you doing in here anyway? Your shift ended at seventeen-hundred." "I just wanted to run an inspection on the photon torpedoes. I'll be sure to finish in the next 15 minutes. I've got an hour of holodeck time at twenty-hundred hours that I don't want to miss." Quallo explained. "See that you don't." the Captain shot back, concerned that her officer was overworking himself, "Do you need more help with the weapons systems? I'm sure we can move some personnel to help you get these diagnostics done." "No, Captain. Thank you. It seems like Ensign Anderson has done a fine job with recent torpedo maintenance, I just wanted to double check." "Do you have reason to believe his work was unsatisfactory?" "Not at all, he's a fine officer... but... If I'm the one who will pull the trigger to fire these torpedoes, then I should also be responsible for assuring that they work right. There could be a lot riding on these." he paused, "I hope I'm not overstepping my authority here; I know it's redundant, and that's why I do this on my free time." "I certainly applaud your commitment and dedication, I only hope you're not working yourself too hard. Just make sure you don't miss your holodeck time- that's an order." The Captain smiled before turning to walk out. "Oh, I almost forgot why I came down here." she added, "The Federalist has been asked to change course in order to bring some medical supplies to Dessica II. We should be entering orbit shortly. I know you grew up there, so if you'd like to catch up with some old friends, I'd be willing to stay in orbit for a few days." Quallo suddenly looked alarmed. "Thank you Captain, but I hope I never go back to that planet. I don't have fond memories or old friends there." "Very well, Mr. Quallo. Let me know if you need anything." The Captain left Quallo to his work, the doors sliding shut behind her. Quallo returned to his work. "Computer, when was the last diagnostic on our phaser array?" He queried. "The phaser array underwent a full diagnostic 3 days, 14 hours ago." the computer immediately answered. "Prepare another diagnostic..." --- The next morning, Aznia Deet entered the bridge at zero-seven-twenty hours, she walked into her ready room directly to the replicator: "Bolian Tonic, 2 degrees Celsius, large." A cold, fizzy, transparent purple drink appeared in a clear tall glass, which she eagerly sipped. She never started the day without her ritual pick-me-up, and a quick glance at the ship's status report. several minutes later, Aznia returned to the bridge with her drink, dismissing Lt. Atom from command of the Delta Shift. The android officer returned to his post at the science station. Giving her first order of the day, Captain Deet order a hailing frequency be opened to the Dessican administrator. After a moment he came on screen, "Administrator Bort, have your facilities received all of the medical supplies?" The rotund Bolian bureaucrat responded, "Yes Captain, we are in your debt. These supplies will save lives here." He paused, a curious look coming over his face. "Is... Is that a Bolian Tonic you're holding?" Captain Deet looked down at her drink mildly confused. She then looked back up at the administrator with a smile and answered "Why yes it is. I'm quite fond of it actually." The Bolian chuckled, "It just so happens that I've got an entire case of tonic here, fresh from Bolarus- the genuine article too! I would be very pleased to have you and your staff join me for a drink and a meal. I know Dessica II has an old reputation for being a lawless, dangerous place; but we've made great strides under my administration. I'd love to a chance to show a Federation representative some of our reforms and accomplishments." "Certainly. I'm looking forward to it." "Splendid. I'll make preparations! Say... thirteen-hundred hours? I'll transmit beam-down coordinates shortly." Aznia nodded, smiling. The communication channel closed. She turned around to face her crew, noting that Ensign Bohannon at Tactical was the only officer still present from Delta Shift. "Computer what is the time?" "Zero-seven-thirty-three hours, seventeen seconds." The precise instrument responded. "Ensign Bohannon, has Lt. Commander Quallo informed you that he would be late?" "No sir, I just haven't been dismissed yet." the Ensign alertly responded. "Deet to Quallo, report." Aznia tapped her comm badge. There was no response. "Computer, locate Lt. Commander Quallo." Aznia demanded, as concern filled the bridge like rising water. "Lt. Commander Quallo is not aboard the Federalist." The computer stated, mater-of-factly. "When was he last aboard, how did he leave, and where was he located?" A subtle panic set into Aznia's voice. "Lt. Commander Quallo was last detected in Jeffries Tube 52-a at twenty-hundred-thirty-seven hours, 54 seconds. Unable to determine method of disembarkment." "Deet to Lt. Dewoh, meet me with a security team at the entry to Jeffries Tube junction 52-a." she ordered. "Span, you're with me." --- The Trill and Vulcan senior officers marched quickly through the lower corridors of the Federalist toward the junction. There they met the imposing, tall, maroon skinned Saurian security officer; "Lt. Dewoh, we have a situation. Lt. Commander Quallo has vanished from aboard the Federalist, and we need to know how he's left and where he's gone." She demanded. Lt. Dewoh's awkward mannerism and stoic stature remained unchanged, he simply gave an exaggerated nod of acknowledgement to the captain, stating "Aye, ma'am." before rapidly getting his team to work. He was always an unusual character aboard the ship. Very dedicated to his work, but socially alienated from the rest of the crew. "Level five sensor scans of all these conduits on the doubles!" He pitifully tried to mimic a more typically 'humanoid' mannerism, as he pushed his mostly-human security team to work. It was a matter of moments before the security team found a tool kit unattended in the Jeffries Tube with diagnostic systems engaged. Ultimately, they were unable to find evidence of tampering or sabotage. There was also no evidence of any standard transporter technology having been employed. Aznia waited outside the corridor as the security team conducted their continuing sweeps. It was about an hour before she heard Lt. Dewoh's unusual voice declare "I've got it! I've got it!" as he crawled out of the cramped access tunnel. "Folded Space Transport!" He proclaimed. "I'm sorry, what?" The Captain required clarification. "It is a technology that has been abandoned for years. It is very dangerous to organic tissue- prolonged use will kill you; but it transports individuals undetected, long range, even through shields. Very sneaky, ma'am." "Are you sure?" Aznia probed. "Sure as sure is and will sure be." The awkward Saurian botched the saying, "After removing the impossible, only a Folded Space transporter remains the improbable." "Very nice work, Mr. Dewoh. I want you to stay on the trail, report any findings to me." "Aye! Here to be service! We will find him!" Dewoh stated with sincere enthusiasm. --- Captain Deet returned to the bridge. Sitting in the Captain's chair, Aznia found herself more uncomfortable than she's ever been in that seat before. "Open a channel to Starbase 39-Sierra, Admiral Edward Park." The viewscreen flickered on, an old, grizzled officer stare back at the young Captain. "Deet! It's been far too long. How've you been?!" Aznia softly smiled at her old friend, "Things have been better, Admiral." "Admiral?" the old commanding officer responded with surprise. "Drop the ranks, Deet. What can I do to help?" "One of my officers has gone missing. He was pulled from the ship with a Folded Space Transporter. I need any information you have on this technology. I also need a detailed personnel file on Lt. Commander Quallo, including his history on Dessica II. I have reason to believe someone in his past is behind this." The admiral's tone turned somber, "Absolutely Deet. I'll have it transmitted over immediately. Is there anything else I can do?" Smiling, Aznia finished the conversation "I don't think so, Eddy. thank you for your help. I'll buy you a drink next time I'm around." "I'd like that." the old friends ended their call. "Get Administrator Bort on screen." Aznia jumped from one thought to the next. The fat Bolian's smiling face again appeared on screen. "Our meeting isn't for another hour, Captain. Is there something I can do for you?" "I'm afraid we might need to cancel our plans, Administrator." Aznia's stated seriously, "A crew member has gone missing, abducted by a Folded Space Transporter, and we have reason to believe that it may have something to do with his history on Dessica II." "That's just awful, I will alert our authorities to be on the lookout. I like to think that this planet has made great strides in stamping out the presence of organized crime, but there is still a healthy criminal element on this planet. What is your crewman's name?" "His name is Quallo, he is a Ferengi who grew up on the Travisian Coast of the Ketral Continent." The Captain informed the Administrator. "I'll look into it right away, I'll let you know if I find anything." Bort closed the channel. "I'll be in my ready room." The captain stepped into the privacy of her office. --- At her console, the Captain began to sift through the information streamed from Starbase 34-Sierra. Quallo's history was spotty. His location and date of birth were recorded, as was his date of enlistment in Starfleet. Starfleet seemed to have no detailed or relevant history on him prior to the date he stepped off the transport to Earth. Information on the Folded Space Transporter was more detailed. It explained a process to detect a transport in progress. An Adaptive Supspace Echogram would be able to detect the location of such a transport if another one occurs. "We just need to get them to use it again." she quipped to herself. Aznia immediately communicated this information to her crew. After a short wait, a communiqué came in from the Dessican Administrator's office. "Captain, your officer had an interesting history on Dessica II. Have you ever heard of Wawu Stickfighting?" Administrator Bort asked. "No, I'm afraid not." Aznia responded somewhat impatiently. "It is a barbaric martial art that this planet's natives used to practice. In the ancient version of this event, competitors would be armed with a wooden shield, and a burning stick. A fire would be lit on each end of a rectangular field of combat. The competitors would wait until their weapon's end was red hot; then the objective was to burn your opponent with the hot end. The first competitor to impose three scarring burns on their opponent wins the contest. A modern variation on this sport had become popular on Dessica II several years ago, it combined a modified Klingon Pain Stick and digital scoring. Three years ago, my administration banned the activity, as it attracted the attention of all of this planet's organized crime. Gambling, drinking, violence, injury... it all followed these events. Anyways, two decades ago, your officer was quite the competitor. He was a professional, and he appears to have had a an undefeated career that included 25 consecutive wins... until..." The administrator paused uncomfortably. "Until what?" The Captain demanded. "It seems that in his 26th event, the opponent was killed after Quallo landed his first strike. Quallo left the scene immediately. He hasn't been seen on Dessica II since." "Aren't these weapons non-lethal?" The captain asked with alarm. "They're supposed to be!" The Administrator said with a scoff tone. "Now you can see why I've banned the practice! It seems someone tampered with the combat stick. Either your officer, his trainers, or gamblers. The authorities at the time declared the case closed. Unfortunately, justice meant very little to my predecessors. A full investigation was never conducted... but If you want my opinion, you need to find out more about his opponent if you want to find your officer's kidnappers. He was an Orion named Gevish-Nar." "Thank you for your information, Administrator Bort. You've been a great help." Aznia finished the conversation. "Contact me if you need anything else." the channel closed. --- Aznia walked onto the bridge. "Orions." she sneered. "Span, Atom, you're with me." she tapped her comm badge, "Lt. Dewoh, meet me in transporter room 1." Span stopped the Captain, "We can take care of this, Captain. Your place is on the bridge." "No. Under normal circumstances, I'd be inclined to agree. But it's the job of a captain to safeguard their crew. I need to be there. I need to help find Quallo." Span relented. They organized in the transporter room as Ensign Keesa transported them to Travisian City. --- Quallo sat quietly in a small, dark room. "I didn't kill him! He was my friend!!" He pleaded through the door, unsure if anyone was listening. Painful memories flooded the Ferengi's head. Since his final fight, he'd always assumed he was a wanted man. Revenge could be sought by Gevish's family, fans, and even friends- though he counted himself among them. He understood why people wanted him dead, sometimes he felt that way himself. Quallo thought back to his life before that fight. He trained with an Orion gym, Gevish was one of his best friends and sparring partners. The Orion clan had taken him in like family. The skills built between the two fighters in that gym reflected the greatest strengths of mutual respect and understanding. Between the two of them, they had trounced the greatest opponents from all of the region's best gyms. The Wawu, the Yridians, the Romulans, none of them could find an opponent worthy of the competing against the boys from the Orion gym. It was only a matter of time before promoters and fans realized that Quallo and Gevish needed to compete, as they were together in a league of their own. It was billed as the greatest event in the history of the planet. There were nearly 50,000 in attendance. Gambling money flooded the arena as hustlers and bookies worked to shave every slip of gold-pressed-profit they could. The event was abuzz with energy. Nothing fazed either fighter. They stared eye to eye before the referee brought each fighter his pain stick. Quallo shifted the grip in his hand, noticing that this was not his favorite stick; but the fight was about to start, and neither fighter was about to break the energy flow in the arena. When the fight started, Quallo found himself unprepared for the ferocity of his opponent. He was on his heels far more than he'd ever been. He'd always been a careful fighter, waiting for the opponent's aggression to show, then striking at weak points systematically. It was unusual to see Gevish taking such aggressive tactics, he'd clearly changed form to take Quallo off guard. Gevish raised his stick at a downward angle indicating a lunge at the legs, so when Quallo moved his shield to block, Gevish backhanded his stick, slapping it across Quallo's shoulder instead, scoring the first strike of the match. For the first time in his professional career, Quallo felt that he might be out of his league. His confidence was shaking. He wondered if the preparation and cunning of a Ferengi could possibly defeat the strength and size of a finely tuned Orion. The fighters retook their relative sides on the arena. Quallo decided to stick to his guns, he couldn't let Gevish throw him out of his comfort zone. Gevish came out of the gate with an extremely aggressive running swing, and this was the exact opportunity Quallo had waited for; he slid to the ground just as the stick swung over his head, and before Gevish could recover, Quallo jabbed at his shoulder, which had been left exposed by the over-aggressive move. Quallo felt an enormous sense of satisfaction as the impact fell, his attitude instantly turned more upbeat. He jumped to his feet with vigor before realizing that something was very wrong. Sparks had flown upon impact, and the end of his pain stick had discharged so violently that its capacitors had burst. Gevish still stood upright, every muscle in his body tensed to it's fullest. Green blood trickled from the corners of his eyes, which stared lifeless and straight toward Quallo. His body seemed to take an eternity to fall. Quallo froze while referees, attendants, and trainers all rushed in. Quallo dropped the broken pain stick, slowly walking in to see his fallen comrade. Death was pronounced very quickly, so Quallo ran. Before reaction could set in, before anyone could realize what had happened; Quallo's flight instincts escorted him from the arena. Amazed that he escaped, he boarded the first departing transport shuttle he found. Quallo booked transport to the Shorahn continent. By the next morning, he was on a freighter to Benzar. Along the way, he considered several new career paths. He needed a fresh start, and he wanted nothing more than to get away from fighting. The most peaceful people he could think of were the people of the Federation. He bought passage aboard a trader's vessel on a trip to Earth, where he applied for admittance to Starfleet Academy. Now Quallo sat in the dark, his past having finally caught up to him, he couldn't run anymore. He didn't know who'd taken him, but he definitely knew why. --- Captain Deet had found her way to a back alley bar in Travisian City. She'd been told that it was a popular Orion hangout by a trustworthy source. She stepped around the corner into the alley, and instantly came face to face with two large Orion men leaving the bar. Aznia reached for her phaser, ready to draw down on them. Commander Span put his hand on her arm to stifle her overreaction. "Excuse me ma'am." one of the Orions said before walking past. She eased up after the irrational moment of fear. Span shot her a look as if to say 'I expect better', and she knew he was right. She regained her poise quickly. They walked into the bar, where Commander Span drew the attention of the Orion Bartender. "Do you know anything about Wawu Stickfighting in the area?" The bartender was unhappy with this use of his time. "Look. If you want to talk, buy a drink... I'll think about it." Lt. Dewoh stepped up to the bar. He removed a gold pressed latinum 10-sided dice from his pocket. It had alien symbols on each side of it. "Lucky charm... You get luck, we get knowledge." The bartender looked at the dice, then looked up at the Starfleet officers. He put the dice in his pocket. "The two guy who runs the local gym just left. You must've walked right past him." He pulled over a napkin, removing some kind of pencil from his pocket, and drawing a crude map of their gym's location. "Now buy a drink, or get out of here... and you never talked to me." Aznia led the way out of the bar. She turned back only to thank Dewoh for the dice. "I'm sorry you lost your lucky charm." "It was just a dice. A charm is no value if you don't use it for the benefit of reality." Dewoh responded rationally. "Just glad I used it well." --- The away team followed the crude map to a quiet building nearby. "Perhaps we should just handle this directly." Span knocked on the door. Several armed Orions emerged from around the corners of the building, the away team found themselves ambushed. "Why are you asking our bartender about us?" The lead Orion inquired hostilely. "We're investigating the disappearance of one of our crew." Aznia responded frankly. "We've got no business with Starfleet." the lead Orion lowered his weapon. "What makes you think we know anything?" "Do you know the name Gevish-Nar?" Aznia asked, as the lead Orion became visibly upset. "My name is Tellis-Nar. He was my brother. If I ever find out who's responsible for his death, I will kill them with my bear hands." He insisted. "I lost two brothers that day. There was another fighter from my gym that was tricked into killing him. We never found out what happened to him. I miss those boys every day." "So you don't believe Quallo was responsible??" Aznia asked with some surprise. "You know Quallo?? Where is he!?" Tellis' mood lifted. "Of course he wasn't responsible. He was family!" "Quallo's the missing member of my crew." Aznia informed Tellis. "I'd look at the Yridians. They lost a lot of money on that fight. If they believe Quallo cheated, he could be dead by now." "What do you propose we do?" Span asked. Tellis invited the away team inside his gym, they followed him through a hidden door in a back room of their facility. After going through a long tunnel, they found themselves in a concealed hangar bay. There, they found a massive arsenal: rifles, cannons, and even two Scorpion Fighter Ships. "The Yridian Clans dominate an area of the continent called Balastrade. With your help, we could storm their headquarters and deal a crippling blow to their leadership once and for all! Maybe we can find someone there to tell us where Quallo is." "...as the planet erupts into gang warfare? No, we can't be a part of this." Aznia rejected the plan. "In the years following the fight, the relations between the Yridian and Orion clans deteriorated. When stickfighting was eventually banned, the only common ground we had was erased... Captain, if you want to see your crewman again, you need to help us!" "I'm afraid I can't interfere in your conflict, Tellis. I'll let you know if anything changes." Aznia wouldn't budge. "Deet, to Federalist. Beam us up." --- Back aboard the Federalist, Captain Deet felt as if no ground had been made. Certainly she couldn't involve herself in the middle of Dessica II's prominent gang war. She felt like she'd uncovered more questions than answers. "If you need me, I'll be in my ready room." She retreated to her quiet sanctuary, ordering herself another Bolian Tonic. "Captain, we're receiving a hail you may want to answer." Commander Span's voice chimed in just as Aznia relaxed in her seat. Deet hung her head for just a moment before returning to the bridge. "On screen." A wrinkled Yridian face appeared on her viewscreen. "Captain, we are not your enemy." he instantly pleaded. "Why would you assume that you are?" Deet played coy. "Let's drop the pretense. We deal in information. We have eyes everywhere. We don't know where your crewman is, but we know we don't have him." Aznia was intrigued, "What reason do I have to believe you? If you have informants everywhere, then why don't you have answers for me?" "If you want my best guess, Tellis has your officer somewhere. He's not at their gym, or in that secret bunker of his..." Aznia raised an eyebrow at the Yridian's knowledge. "Yes. I know about that. As far as I can tell, Tellis was willing to kill his own brother in the name of profit. How do you think he financed that arsenal of his? I would assume that he's kidnapped his 'old friend' in order to create a situation where he could put that arsenal to use!" The Yridian made a strong case. "He made money on the fight?" The story started to click. "...He made money on the fight." Captain Deet paused the conversation for just a moment. "Lt. Atom, see what you can do to verify this information." "...and here's another free piece of information. Two days after the fight, he got his hands on those Romulan Scorpion Fighters from a Reman arms dealer named Nevvik. Is it simply a coincidence that he found the income to afford something so advanced?" "If he's got such advanced firepower, why hasn't he attacked you yet?" "In this cold war, you don't only need the firepower to defeat your enemy. You need the firepower to push back the authorities who will capitalize on the opportunity to crush two weakened powers at the same time." Aznia looked down at her drink. "I've got an idea, and I need your help." --- Aznia sat down in her ready room, "Computer, open a hailing frequency to Administrator Bort." The Bolian face appeared on her console. "Have you had any luck, Captain?" The administrator questioned. "I believe so, administrator. I've been in contact with a Yridian information dealer who claims to have intercepted information about where my crewman is being held. He hasn't informed us yet because he insists on making the transaction in person. Security is a great concern for him. He'll be beaming aboard shortly to explain the situation, and he's agreed to stay aboard until our crewman is recovered." "Wonderful news. I just suggest that you may want to rethink your meeting plans incase the Orions are monitoring our channel. I'd hate to see something happen." Administrator Bort warned. "I'll take your advice into consideration, administrator. Thank you for all your help." "Any time Captain." The Administrator closed the channel quickly. Aznia walked down to the transporter room briskly, meeting Ensign Keesa at the controls. "Energize" A figure began to appear on the transporter pad. Upon materializing, the Yridian vanished in a flash from the transporter pad. "Deet to Dewoh, they've taken the bait!" "Coordinates are routed to your console now! The Adaptive Supspace Echogram reflects a holding area under the Administrative capitol!" A security team flowed into the transporter room to meet the Captain, "Beam us to directly to the administrator's office." --- The team materialized in front of Administrator Bort's desk. "You're under arrest, Bort." Starfleet officers beamed in on every level of the facility. "Where are my men being held." "What do you think you're doing, Captain?" The Administrator disregarded the charges. "You have no basis to make such claims!" The Bolian became visibly nervous. She turned to the Administrator, "What I didn't tell you is that we found a way to track your Folded Space Transporter. We just needed to give you an excuse to use it again." "I... I have no idea what you're talking about. You have no business being here! You'll pay for these accusations!" The petulant leader bargained. "Quallo and the Yridian informant are secure Captain." A security officer reported in on a comm channel. "Huh. Look at that." Aznia taunted the Bolian. "You've ruined everything. I was on the brink of destroying these vermin clans once and for all!! I got rid of their little barbaric sport, I've been instigating them for years, I've pushed them to the brink of destroying one and other, and I would've been there to clean up the remnant mess once they were gone! You've done this planet a disservice, Captain!" The Bolian turned cerulean with anger. Deet didn't care about his agenda. "You're a kidnapper... and you're coming with me." she demanded. Bort lunged at a control panel at his desk, activating a Folding Space transport. Before the security team could react, the Administrator had vanished. "Deet to Federalist! He's used the folded space transporter!" Aznia alerted her ship. "He's gone Captain. He transported to a ship that just cloaked and left orbit. We've lost him." Quallo entered the Administrator's office with the Yridian leader. "Captain, I'm so glad to see you." Aznia's face was stern, "I'll have you court martialled for this." Quallo was taken aback. "I ordered you not to miss your holodeck time." they both smiled. --- Before the Federalist left orbit, Captain Deet beamed to the Orion gym, where there was one last piece of business to attend to. Again, she was were greeted by the Orion clan. "Tellis, I thought I'd let you know that this situation is diffused, and Quallo is safe aboard the Federalist." she informed the large green man. "That's wonderful news." he answered. "There's just one thing..." Deet made sure that several of the Orions were within ear shot, "I looked into some financial records, and it seems that your financial accounts came into a windfall after Quallo's last fight. In fact, my crew was even able to contact the Reman arms dealer who sold most of the arsenal to you." Tellis began to look very nervous. Several of the other Orions began to turn their eyes angrily toward Tellis. "It's all right here in this report... awful coincidence, don't you think?" She tossed the PADD onto the ground, as the enraged Orion clan slowly surrounded their leader, backing him up against a wall. One angry Orion reaching down to pick up the report. "This is... a... misunderstanding. I can explain this..." Tellis pleaded. "I'm sure you can." Deet acknowledged. She tapped her comm badge, "Deet to Federalist, beam me up."